Fiévreux
by Vaviacya
Summary: Little Matthew comes home from school not feeling so well, so Francis decided that it's a good opportunity to see how good of a father he's been to the poor sick boy! But are the results what was expecting?


_For my darling friend :3 Enjoy, everyone!_

_**x~X~x**_

"Papa...? I'm home..."

Little Matthew quietly closed the door behind him as he stepped into his quaint which he lived in with his father, Francis. Today had been a long day at school, and Matthew wanted to greet his father before he took some rest.

Glancing uneasily about the house, Matthew walked into the kitchen, where he found Francis, who was just about to start making dinner for the two of them.

"Hi, daddy." Matthew said softly. Francis looked up, and smiled warmly at the small child. "Matthew!" Kneeling down, he embraced him in a hug. "How was school today, mon amour?"

"Fine..." Matthew mumbled tiredly. Francis frowned slightly. "Did something happen?" "Just the usual." Matthew admitted, looking down at his hands. "The teacher didn't notice me when I raised my hand for the answer for the homework... again."

"Hmm..." Francis tilted his head slightly. "That is strange. Did you see Alfred during recess?"

"Well, yes." Matthew gave a small nod. "But he was too busy reading those comic books that he always brings."

Francis chuckled, standing up straight. "That sounds like him, all right."

Matthew didn't reply, his eyes focused on nothing in particular, and Francis noticed. "Is there anyone that you like to talk to, or play with at school?" He asked the boy, worried.

Matthew bit his lip slightly. "I... No, papa, not really. But, it's okay." He told his father. "It doesn't really bother me."

"If you say so." Francis ruffled the boy's hair playfully, then asked, with a lighter tone, "What do you want for dinner?"

"I... I don't know. Anything, really." Matthew folded his hands anxiously, feeling a bit unsteady on his feet. "I think I'm going to take a nap before dinner, i-if that's okay."

"Sure, that's fine." Francis nodded. Leaning down, he brushed Matthew's hair from his forehead, pressing a gentle kiss to it. "I'll wake you up when dinner's ready."

Francis watched as the child walked to his room. He did seem usually tired today, Francis observed, trying to ignore the guilty feeling. School must not be easy for someone like him. Surely he could ask Alfred to be more inclusive with his son?

Francis ran a hand through his hair as he looked through his seemingly endless lists of recipes. He decided to cheer Matthew up, and cook his favorite meal. Now, if he could find the right recipe...

_**x~X~x**_

Just a few hours later, the table was set for dinner.

Warm Flemish beef stew, millas, along with tomato and spinach crepes were laid on the table, plates and silverware already prepared. And, for dessert, he had made chocolate mousse – Matthew's favorite. Looking at his work, Francis couldn't help but feel pride for such an excellent meal.

Rolling his sleeve back up, Francis remembered that Matthew was still asleep in his room, but just before he took a step towards the stairs, he saw the young boy as he walked slowly down the stairs.

Francis was alarmed at Matthew's appearance. His face was so incredibly pale... his eyes gaunt and unfocused. He was taking small steps, as if he was too dizzy to move any faster, and his breath was ragged and uneven.

"Matthew!" Francis approached the boy, kneeling to see eye-to-eye, and lifted his own hands to Matthew's shoulders. "Mon fils, what's wrong?"

Matthew opened his mouth to speak, but immediately covered it with a hand, and be began to cough violently, tears appearing in his eyes. After a few seconds, he calmed down, and looked to Francis, his eyes huge with fear.

"D-daddy..." Matthew took a breath, shaking. "I-I don't feel s-so good."

"What's wrong?" Francis stroked Matthew's soft cheek with his hand, feeling a sudden sinking feeling in his stomach at the unbelievably hot touch. "What hurts?"

"E-everything." Matthew choked back a sob. "I-I'm so sorry, papa, I-I am..."

"Chéri, it's not your fault," Francis told him quietly, "It's okay, darling, I promise."

Matthew's eyes shut suddenly as another wave of dizziness coursed through his body, and he stumbled into his father, who, now more worried, took him into his arms.

"We have to get you to bed." Francis told him softly, but little Matthew was too drained to anything but nod drowsily, nuzzling into Francis's shirt, finding comfort.

"How long have you been feeling like this?" Francis asked Matthew as he tucked him into his bed. "S-since this morning..." Matthew mumbled. "But it wasn't... wasn't this bad..."

"Didn't you tell a teacher you weren't feeling good?" Francis's eyes widened when he realized the stupidity of that sentence, wishing he could take it back.

"N-no, daddy." Matthew whimpered. "I t-tried, I really d-did..."

Francis felt a surge of anger. His poor child shouldn't be ignored like that, especially not to adults that were supposed to be giving him an education.

"Just hold on a minute, I'm going to get you some medicine." Francis told Matthew, standing. Matthew, who was barely even awake, just nodded once more.

Francis couldn't remember the last time his Matthew was ill. He recalled once when he himself was struck with a mild fever, and ended up staying two days at Arthur's house. He smiled at that memory. Matthew had been much younger than he was now, but he was still old enough to come up to his room every now and then to talk to him, usually when Alfred was hanging out with his friends, or completely ignoring his 'brother', as he often tended to.

Francis poured the correct amount of fever reducer, carefully walking back to Matthew's bedroom. Matthew's eyes were closed, but Francis was rather certain he hadn't fallen asleep yet.

"Matthieu," Francis called quietly, stroking his forehead, damp with perspiration, which only arose more fear in Francis. Matthew's eyes opened, blinking. "Here, drink this, okay?" Francis asked softly, helping him sit up.

Obediently, Matthew raised his hands to take the small cup from Francis's hand, and drank it slowly. After a moment, he put it down, grimacing at the taste. "It doesn't taste good, papa..."

"I know," Francis told him sympathetically. "But can you drink the rest of it?" Matthew did as he was asked, and Francis took the cup back from him, and walked to the bathroom to clean and put it away. While he was there, he retrieved a washcloth, which he doused with water, wringing it out thoroughly before bringing it back into Matthew's room.

When he returned, he was a little surprised to see that Matthew's eyes were closed, and he was curled up against the pillow. Not sure if he was awake or not, Francis decided to just leave him be. He carefully placed the damp cloth on Matthew's forehead to help lower his temperature. He studied Matthew's features with worry.

What happened? Matthew had seemed perfectly fine this morning, if not seeming just the slightest more tired than usual.

Francis sat on Matthew's bed, raising one hand to stroke his hair slowly, thoughtfully. Had he not been a good father? Shouldn't he have noticed that something wasn't right with Matthew? What did Matthew think of him? Francis bit his lip. He stood, and, turning off the bedroom light, he quietly closed the door behind him.

Francis wasn't really too sure what to do next... So he did what he usually does when he needs a little extra help.

He called Arthur.

_**x~X~x**_

"_Matthew is ill?"_

Francis could hear the surprise in Arthur's voice, and he replied, "Yes. He came home looking a bit flushed, it looks like a fever."

"_Hmm... What have you done?"_

Francis glanced in the direction of the sleeping child's room. "I gave him some medicine, and he fell asleep right afterward."

"_Did you take his temperature yet?"_

"No," Francis admitted hesitantly. "I... probably should have done that..."

There was a pause, then, _"Francis, are you okay? You're not stressing out about this, are you?"_

"No, of course not!" Francis shook his head, forgetting momentarily that Arthur couldn't see him. "It's just..." He broke off slightly, then continued, "... I don't know if I'm doing very well as a fatherly figure to Matthew, Arthur."

"_Francis, you're doing wonderfully. Believe me. Why don't I come over?"_ Arthur suggested warmly._ "I can help you with Matthew, and be a little company to you."_

"Sure." Francis told him in a quiet voice, and hung up the phone.

"Daddy?"

Francis's eyes widened as he turned to a drowsy Matthew, clinging his small stuffed polar bear. "Matthew! What are you doing awake, mon cher?"

"I-I'm sorry!" Matthew stuttered. "I-it's just... I couldn't sleep so good, a-and I was going to get a drink of water..." He broke off suddenly, coughing into his hand.

Alarmed, Francis hurried over to him, rubbing his back so help ease the fit. "Don't apologize, I should have brought you a drink..." Another guilty pang.

"D-daddy.." Matthew gasped, catching his breath. "Daddy, you are a good father, really. D-don't feel bad, okay?"

Francis was completely lost for words. He had heard his conversation with Arthur?

"You can't blame yourself for this." Matthew hiccuped, feeling his eyes overflow with tears. "P-please, daddy."

Francis was shocked. He opened his mouth for comforting words, but instead, he took the boy into his arms , holding him closely. Matthew, who barely had enough energy to stand, leaned into his father's embrace, closing his eyes.

Finally, Francis stood up, lifting Matthew from the ground into his arms protectively. "Arthur's coming over in a little bit," He told Matthew, not knowing if he was aware of that already. "Okay... Do you want me to go back into my room?" "Do you want to?"

"No," Matthew yawned. "I... I guess it's been a while since I've seen him, I'll stay..."

Francis smiled. "All right."

"But will Alfred be here, too, papa?"

Francis shook his head. "No,"

"Good..." Matthew yawned silently, cuddling against Francis's chest.

_**x~X~x**_

Francis held Matthew until the doorbell rang, and, carefully, opened the door to a familiar Briton.

"Hello, Francis." Arthur smiled at him, immediately noticing Matthew in his arms. "Is he doing any better?" Arthur asked softly. Francis glance to the side uneasily, and Arthur understood.

Minutes later, Francis and Arthur sat in the living room couches. Arthur was sipping from Earl Grey tea, his gaze focused d on Matthew. The boy had grown quiet and still, his breathing became more even, and he and Francis were sure that he had fallen asleep on Francis's lap.

"He said I was a good father," Francis told Arthur. "That it wasn't my fault... But... I don't know. Am I overreacting about this?" He asked anxiously.

"No," Arthur replied firmly. "It's completely normal to feel protective over your son, especially the first time he's sick."

"I just feel like I should have seen it sooner, or..."

"Francis, did I ever tell you what happened the first time Alfred was ill?" Arthur's expression transformed from serious to amused as he stirred his tea.

"As a matter of fact... you didn't." Francis blinked, suddenly interested in the details.

Arthur smiled, shaking his head slightly. "The silly child... He had been sick with the stomach flu for an entire two days without me even noticing." "What made you finally notice?" Francis asked

Arthur gave a low chuckle, but didn't explain. "Don't worry about a thing, Francis." He smiled at his friend. "I promise, you did just as well as anyone else could have, if not better." Francis returned the smile, feeling comforted by the words.

Matthew shifted in his sleep, but his eyes opened when his body began to shake with yet another coughing fit. Francis helped him sit up, rubbing his back soothingly, kissing his cheek. Matthew looked up as his father, a smile playing at his lips, and Francis couldn't help but wonder if he had listened to that conversation, too.

Matthew inhaled a shuddering breath, but he was beginning to look better. Color was slowly returning to his face, and his forehead didn't feel quite as warm.

But that was okay. Matthew was looking better, and even Matthew himself knew – as long as Francis was there, everything was perfectly fine.


End file.
